Numb
by Ayoshen
Summary: Impatience led to Alice's doom. What killed the white rabbit? / An alternate take on what would have happened if Sam hadn't made it in time to save Quorra.
1. Chasing the White Rabbit

**Summary:** Impatience led to Alice's doom. What killed the white rabbit? / An alternate take on what would have happened if Sam hadn't made it in time to save Quorra.

**Rating:** PG-13

**Genre:** Angst/Tragedy

**Pairing:** Quorra/Clu… In a really weird way I suppose, lol.

Chapter 1: Chasing the White Rabbit

_"You are a very rare bird, aren't you?" he says as he turns away from the black guards and walks over to the figure radiating piercing hatred scorn in all directions with a triumphant grin. She diverts her eyes to the ground as he covers up the glowing mark of the ISOs on her shoulder._

_ "Where's your disc? Where is he?" He's obviously enjoying himself. No wonder; he has finally captured the last flaw in the otherwise perfect system that he's created. The last danger threatening the unshakeable order and hierarchy he has established. There is no feeling quite as exhilarating as taking your worst fears by surprise and crushing them limb by limb._

_ "You must have been so lonely out there. How tragic – to be the only one." He's mocking her with no shame. The cause of all of this turmoil and suffering, spineless and pathetic, drowning in his majestic excellence without even realizing it. The one who lives on the blame of others. The one who thinks it a charming compliment._

_ She looks up at him, her face stone cold. "I've seen what users are capable of, Clu. You don't belong with them." For a brief moment, there is almost a hint of pitying sympathy hidden somewhere in those words. _

_He pays no attention to it and caresses a lock of her hair, taking in the image. Hundreds, maybe thousands of cycles have passed since the first symptom of this disease, the first free-willed who chose her own name, Ophelia, emerged from the geat Sea of Simulation. The war ended a long time ago; the Triumvirate has already been broken. But since then, there have still been rumors and legends of The Last ISO. The key to obliterating the lone remnants of those stories is finally in his grasp. He inhales the scent of victory. "I have something very special in mind for you." She shies away from his touch. _

_Clu directs his attention toward Rinzler. "Take her upstairs, and find them. You'll have to excuse me, you arrived just as I was preparing for a little toast." Without saying another word, he leaves to attend to his growing army, and doesn't even take a second look at the ISO being dragged to the elevator. There will be time enough later, after his initiative has commenced._

_

* * *

_So this is where all his orders come from. She has to admit, for a murderer's lair, it looks quite cozy. Orange strips of light encircling the room give it an eerie feel. One wall of the ship is completely see-through, giving everyone inside the option to witness everything that's happening on the Grid. And there, in the front, sitting on a pedastal, is the most important piece of code ever written – her mentor's identity disc. She curses herself in her mind for being so close to retrieving it, but having no chance to. She looks outside and sees Clu's legions marching, hears the muffled but nonetheless terrifying echo of his speech.

_"__Out there is a new world! Out there is our victory! Out there is our destiny!"_

The words resonate in her head and she shivers from head to toe. She only hopes that she got them enough time, that her sacrifice wasn't in vain. That the users will live on and show us a new, better way.

_And so Alice fell down the rabbit hole._


	2. The King of Hearts

Chapter 2: The King of Hearts

Being alone with Rinzler is frustrating. Not because she's being held captive, not even because of the lost opportunities to try to escape, to help, anymore. It's the silence. The all-encompassing hooded figure looking up at her thoughts with its void, dead eyes, reminding her continuously that she is alone in the belly of the beast. No matter where she tries to run, its shadow is always in front of her, impossible to outrun, staring into her soul like the predator stalking its prey – the sick, the young, the old and the abandoned. The corrupted piece of the code. She hasn't been abandoned, she quickly assures herself; she's left. They will set things right and come back for her. She has by no means lost hope, but this is only the first step, and she knows that there's worse to come.

"What made you serve him?" she asks the armored guard gripping her tied wrists behind her back.

There is no answer, not even the slightest movement or a sign of comprehension. Only silence.

She gulps. She has always suspected that this might come, yet, as she now realizes, she was never fully ready. No one can be ready for such circumstances. She is afraid. But that is only natural.

_**Fear (n)**__ - A feeling of agitation and dread caused by the presence or imminence of danger._

She wonders why Flynn included such an unpleasant thing in the system, and why she can feel it. The ISOs are different. Why can't they have certain advantages? Then again, users feel fear too. Fear and pain, the two most horrifying qualities of existence. Flynn once told her that users believe in something above them, the users' users, called gods. What the Portal is to programs, the sky is to users. She's read about gods in his books, but there was no mention of their ability to perceive. Can they feel fear and pain, too? Is there no end to it all? Why is it so damn quiet in here?

Silence stands still in the darkness and listens, then pulls out his deadly blade. The assassin locks onto his target. His companions remain unseen, but when you spot one, you know they are all there. They are a brotherhood, observing, calculating, creating the perfect plan.

Finally, the elevator moves, and soon her captor enters the ship like a blessing, lifting the unbearable suspense. For the time being.

"Leave us," he commands Rinzler, who tilts his head in question. "She poses no threat to me in here." The elite guard nods slightly and heads towards the platform outside, his steps predetermined to be absolutely even by the system. The symmetry is rather frightening, really.

The ISO doesn't believe her own thoughts as she realizes that a small part of her is grateful for Clu's presence. He reminds her of Flynn. He reminds her of what is like to _not be alone_.

He finally speaks, examining the seemingly fragile, similar and yet foreign individual in front of him. "What made you serve him?"

She chuckles at the irony. "I am no servant. I'm with him because I'm grateful for what he's done for me, because I appreciate what he can teach me and because I want to learn. I am an apprentice, no less," she answers decidedly. "You can't possibly understand. You were never able to see the value of his ideas. You only ever think of yourself and the mission that could have been accomplished hundreds of cycles ago, had you had a bit of humility before your creator. We were not the corrupted ones. It's always been you," she mutters with disgust.

The program walks around her slowly, stroking his chin, apparently deep in thought. "I'm trying to understand, I truly am, but I don't. What has he given you? A life in hiding, spending eternity waiting for another ‚miracle'. Someday, he will have nothing more to teach you. What then? Has this ever occured to you?" She glances at the ground. "On the other hand, imagine the things I could give you. Luxury. Fame. A city, maybe. That is certainly more interesting than a bunch of old books and some pillows."

"The last time you offered to give me something, it was a quick and indefensible deresolution. Why the sudden spark of interest?" Her eyes meet his in genuine confusion.

He stops in his tracks. "Because, my dear, except for that one fatal flaw, you are still an intriguing specimen."

"What flaw? Free will is a flaw?" She eyes him suspiciously.

"It is the source of all the problems in the system. Revolution. Inefficiency. Every road leads only to the programs' own deresolution, which is completely unnecessary. I only demand obedience from the ones who follow me. If your will is my will, it all clicks together. It works perfectly. Think about the options. You could be my first… Black knight. You must admit it does have a nice ring to it." He stops in front of her with a playful grin, expecting an honest consideration of the matter. The woman can tell he is not used to being rejected. She doesn't care.

"You have no right to _demand_ anything from me! A true leader is chosen by his followers! There is no value to the position if you earned it by reshaping them to your liking!"

"How dare you raise your voice at me! I built this place. I've polished it. You speak of humility, but have none for me at all," he shouts out angrily, slamming her against the wall. That's when she realizes she's crossed the line. A small candlelight suddenly reaches high into the air, engulfing unsuspecting sparks of desire and fondness, even.

She winces and her breathing quickens, trying to catch up to the rapidly increasing pace of her heartbeat. She convinces it to remain quiet, at least. "You never created _me_." Her voice softens into a whisper. "As long as I'm free, I will not be subject to anyone the likes of you," she hisses through gritted teeth.

He is back - Silence, Trouble's herald – more frightening than ever. He seeks to destroy the one who fights the night; with honor and grace, no doubt, but lacking hope nonetheless.

He watches and analyzes. Would you like a cup of tea, sir? Of course you would. Black, green? Black it is! Everyone's favorite these days. Sugar? No? Please, have a seat. We're honored that you've decided to stop by…

After a couple of excrutiatingly slow seconds, he gets up, takes a bow politely, and leaves, his face never to be seen underneath the cape everyone recognizes.

"Enjoy your freedom while you can."

He grabs her by the throat. Panic overcomes every fiber of her being as she feels her feet are no longer touching the ground. She tries to gasp instinctively, but can barely breathe. She tries to stop the burning tears threatening to escape, because she knows that this happening to her is her fault and her own fault only. She shouldn't have said those things to him; she shouldn't have, but her heart didn't allow her to keep her damn mouth shut. Was she hoping to change him, to open his eyes? Maybe. She had never understood the definition of naivety and thought it peculiar that Flynn had used it as one of the ISOs primary qualities in his description. It is now that she learns that is the truest thing to be said about her kind. She manages to cough and pull a humorless smile, waving a white flag at the world.

"Rinzler!" Clu shouts, never taking his eyes off the defenseless program.

The guard storms in, disc ready in his hands. He tilts his head toward Quorra, then his master, without saying a word, as always.

"Hold her," Clu commands and watches as his loyalest companion seizes the rebel, gripping her arms, turning her around to face him. There is no compassion or the slightest hint of resistance in the deep, dark, motionless blackness.

She looks up at Rinzler with pleading eyes. "I don't believe you chose this. You can crush the leash! Help me! Remember who you were!" Her lips quiver as she anxiously awaits some sort of answer. A sign.

The only sign she gets is the orange glow emitted from her circuits. Her code is being rewritten. Orders changed; no, given. She desperately tries to break free from Rinzler's grasp, to kick, to punch, to bite, like a startled animal in a hunter's trap – trying every last resort, out of which none help. She cries. "Please, don't— _SAM!_"

An ear-piercing scream cuts through the air.

_He said I hadn't wanted to be stuck in this place forever. I knew he was right, but I was gullible in believing he would let me join him. Either way, he helped me – I'm not imprisoned here anymore. _

_I have been thrown into an entirely different prison cell._

* * *

**Author's Note:** Many thanks to the internet for being awesome and providing me with a definition of "fear" so that I didn't have to make up a ridiculously inaccurate one. I _love_ putting random word definitions in fanfics, though you can't see most of that.

I also have to say I'm quite proud of the dialogue in this chapter. Vocab practice, vocab practice...


	3. Rise of the Warrior

Chapter 3: Rise of the Warrior

_Time swirls infinitely in the endless vortex of reality, forming colorful lines and shapes. I stare in awe, mouth agape. They are beautiful. Sometimes, I see those users call animals. Big, small, peaceful, threatening. Do they not realize they're trapped in here? If they do, they don't seem to care. They are so.. carefree. Is it good for them, being oblivious? I stand here, pondering the idea. What good is a cage if it doesn't seem like a cage to the caged? Is that all that matters? Then again, we all live in cages our entire lives. We start out in a small cage inside a bigger cage inside an even larger box locked up in the world. And then someone out there must have built the cages. What for? Entertainment? Are they looking at us right now, watching us function without being aware of the strings?_

_I must be in a cage, too, but I like it here. I marvel at it. It feels warm and magnificent, one endless wave of change and emotion, the embodiment of infinity. A miracle._

The image of courage brought up from all the corners of young Sam Flynn's mind is at the very least impressive. He's fought his way through the guards and come back for her, with a passion only users can awaken. Even though she was expecting his return, she's unable to celebrate it anymore, since she's not entirely here. Only the glossy carapace remains, empty of life, filled with aimless energy instead.

"I've got you, Quorra. Let's get out of here!" He grabs her hand and tries to pull her away, but the ISO doesn't cooperate; she doesn't move an inch.

A deep, familiar voice echoes through the space. "You're too late, son of Flynn. Just like your father; your weakness has led to a friend's demise in my hands. Funny how history has a way of repeating itself, isn't it?"

Clu stands up from his couch and spreads his arms towards Sam with a smile. The boy gazes at Quorra, then at his father's image, and back at her, puzzled. His brow wrinkles as he tugs at her hand again. "Quorra, snap out of it. We gotta go!"

She stares right through him, her eyes devoid of emotion or thought. Clu chuckles as he watches the user's miserable tries to make her listen and come with him.

Oh, how she would have wished to run, to hold his hand and never let go, to tell him what happened and that he should never have returned for her. To scream at Clu to spare him and quit the damn game. But she doesn't anymore, and even if she did, she couldn't; the ability of verbal communication or expressing opinion is not in her code anymore. It's been ripped out and torn to shreds, making her a few dozen brain cells under average.

The seed of doubt in his look is growing into a full-blown flower with deadly thorns that spit poison into his heart. He puts his hands on her shoulders and tries to see her in front of him. He can't. "What happened to you?" he whispers, frightened.

_I can see him and feel his warmth in my palm, and it's comforting, for a moment. I don't quite recognize the man, but he gives off a pleasant vibe. He's handsome, looks friendly, and he seems to care about me. It's nice to see someone else who cares. The only one who has so far is Clu, who's stood by my side for as long as I can remember. _

_His circuitry is white; neutral programs have white circuits. I would smile at him if my code allowed me to._

_His worried expression makes me feel uneasy, however. Maybe it's not me he was looking for? But I am the only one here; I've always been, besides Clu. He calls me a strange name. "Quorra," he says. "Snap out of it," he says. He's got it all wrong; I don't know any Quorra. There's no information about her on my disc. I'm the Black Knight. I'd like to point him in the right direction, if I knew where that Quorra is. I feel sorry for him, though. He looks like he misses her a lot. I don't want to see him sad. I want to comfort him, but I can't move. It's not in the code._

"_What happened to you?" he asks._

_I scan my memory folders for the earliest file quickly and I remember. When I want to speak up, however, my mouth doesn't obey. I can't make a sound. It's not in the code._

_I want to tell him! He's desperate for this information and seeing someone like this, stranger or not, unable to look away or express sympathy, makes me upset. I try to override the system, find a backdoor. A piece of cake – the only thing I need is to be faster than myself, right?_

"I… have been… reprogrammed," she finally stutters after a cold silence too long for his liking.

Sam gasps involuntarily. "No…"

Clu claps, admiring the feat. "She's something, isn't she? She can accomplish great things, if accompanied by the right allies. Don't worry; I made sure she would."

"What have you done!" He lunges at Clu with a fierce cry, not even bothering to use his disc. He almost trips when he notices that Quorra swiftly blocks the way, lightsword out and ready.

"Get out of my way!" he hisses.

"She won't listen to you anymore. Look at the color of her circuits. She's on my side now, boy."

Sam steps closer to her, ignoring the glowing blade aimed at his chest. "I don't believe him. If that is true, then tell me yourself."

Clu walks over to the two of them and rests his hand on his new warrior's shoulder. "So, tell him, little one," he commands with a proud grin.

The user clenches his hands and pierces her with an intense gaze, but it doesn't pass the invisible barriers. It didn't even have a chance to begin with.

_"__I fight for the system."_

* * *

**Author's Note: **Why is it that every chapter I think would be the last (that is, the last 3 chapters) is... not? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, even though I guess I'm apologizing more to myself than to you because this fic is constantly eating my sleep; every time the plot bunnies stop by for a visit, it's already past midnight. I'm not even sure where I'm going with this and, to be honest, I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter. But I just want it to be over already, lol. The fourth chapter will be the last one, I'm telling you!

Also - I made Clu adress Quorra "little one" in a sarcastic way of sorts, as they are both Kevin Flynn's "confidants" and I think Clu definitely is the type to think "pssssh, this silly kid program is totally lame compared to my awesomeness". In his eyes, she something less, even though he admires her, since he's a bit blinded by jealousy... if that makes sense.


	4. Fall of the Valkyrie

Chapter 4: Fall of the Valkyrie

Even now, as he's thrown onto the Grid arena, sector N-17-10, he can't believe it, deliberately refuses to accept the harsh reality that the Quorra he knew is no more. It never occured to him just how _fragile_ programs can be. After all, they are a code. A personalized series of ones and zeros with human-like shape and… feelings and… will. He shakes his head. All it took was a few minor changes in the lines. It's so common on the outside, using programs to our advantage – after all, that's their sole purpose – but in here, it's a whole other story, messing with his head. They look like people, they talk like people, and they, mostly, act like people. How are they not people, then? Because they can be changed so easily with proper knowledge, be _repurposed_. Their personality is just the image of a few computer-generated characters. One inconspicuous glitch and…

_User Sam versus Black Knight._

He thinks it ironic that Clu isn't here to watch the match, but he's got other important things to do, doesn't he? Killing Sam's father, taking over the world and such. That's got to take some time.

He looks at the horizon and his eyes wander in the clouded black sky until they find what they were looking for – the white pillar of light leading to the portal. It's still open…

He swears to all the gods and deities that when he gets out of here, he will never drop another laptop again.

_Round 1 – Disc Wars._

Quorra wastes no time. She doesn't even let him try to explain or, at least, speak his last words. Funny how only a few nanocycles ago, she had no problem with him holding her hand. She wasn't ordered to protest, he figures. She grabs her disc – a circle of bright orange – and takes her best shot. It's spot on, but Sam manages to evade and take his own disc. He waits as the irritatingly shiny round object bounces off the transparent walls and back to Quorra. They stand still.

The ISO is confused. The purpose of a battle is to compare your strength to your opponent's and prove your worth by their defeat. Those are the rules. Every program knows the rules, and obeys them in order to survive. This one is different; he doesn't throw his disc or fight back in any other manner. It's rather mystifying. She frowns; her circuits tell her to destroy the adversary _in battle_, but this is no battle. This would be murder. Is murder good? She has to check.

"I'm not going to fight you, Quorra," he says, sounding confident enough.

She tilts her head to the side in question. This isn't right. There's a loud _boo_ sound multiplied by thousands, crashing into the glass cage from all around them, urging them to provide the promised diversion.

"Believe it or not – if you even can believe in this effed up state – you're my friend."

According to her operating system, murder is allowed, if necessary, which is the only permission she needs. She moves fast, her steps barely audible; a stealthy killer. He has to admit she is good at what she can do, and if he had the time, he would wonder who taught her so well, and when. It could have been twenty user years ago. It could have been a day.

Still running, she throws her disc at him, and while his only option is to deflect it, the Knight attacks, tripping him up. He doesn't expect this and his back hits the ground. At the same moment, the gravity shifts. He's been down this road before and would have handled it if he had had the chance. He curses under his breath as his knees tackle the ceiling, which is surprisingly hard, for a bunch of ones and zeros; this is one of the times he wishes his father hadn't designed the Grid so perfect. Fortunately for him, his opponent also fails to notice the shift in time. How is that even possible? She should have had it calculated a while before then. What's going on in that system of hers?

All of his instincts scream at him to go help her up and make sure she's not hurt – _damaged_ – as he looks up to lock onto the source of the hoarse cry, sprawled on the ground, her face twisted in a painful grimace. He tries to resist, but nevertheless, in a few seconds he's stumbling over to her, hoping the gravity doesn't shift back to normal anytime soon.

Before he can examine any potential injuries, however, Quorra kicks him away and stands up, breathing heavily. She looks enraged.

_Beep!_

Another shift is announced. They take one last look at each other, daring, turn around, and run as fast as they can. This time, however, the direction of the pull changes in the middle of the battleground, and both duelists find themselves stuck on opposite sides of it.

"So much for getting through to her," Sam mutters, disgruntled. A disc finds its way to the target. Jump! Run! Look up! Block it! The crowd is cheering. Suddenly, behind Quorra's disc dashing towards him, another one emerges.

_Beep!_

Gravity shifts back to normal and Sam's awkward attempt to avoid being hit by either half of her disc ends up with him on his back. "Not again! So what, he teaches that trick to all of you guys now? Or was it Rinzler who taught you how to do it? You know, when this is over, I'd appreciate it if you told me, because honestly, it's kinda cool. What do you say, huh?" he says as he gets up on his feet clumsily.

Quorra pauses at the mention of Rinzler, a bewildered expression on her face.

_Rinzler… Rinzler… Rinzler…_

Maybe it's not too late. Maybe he still has some influence on her. He starts to walk closer to her slowly, imaginary fingers crossed. "I'm not gonna give up on you, Quorra. I know you're still in there somewhere. You're better than that. More advanced, I guess."

_Rinzler, Rinzler…_

"Well, it's up to you, but if you let a douche like Clu take over, then you're not the girl I thought you were."

_Rinzler…_

He reaches out his hand to her. "Come on, Quorra. We don't have much time."

_Rinzler!_

Without warning, she hits him in the chest, and then again, and again, giving him little time to recoil or defend himself. The glow of her circuits brightens. Her eyes light up with immense fury and hatred. For whom, he doesn't know. He didn't do anything, except being rather fond of her! Rather…

More and more hits fall on him, cutting him, taking his breath away. Again and again and again.

He tries to imagine the real Quorra. What is she like? Brave, innocent, curious, childlike. Free of the bonds of pride or the burdens of his reality. Knowledgeable. Dedicated. Respectful. Wise. A little silly and awkward at times, but always lovable.

The _program_ before him posesses no such qualities. It doesn't fill him with courage and admiration like Quorra always did; much the opposite, in fact. This is Quorra no longer. He's fighting the Black Knight.

Again, again, again. It's getting tired, but remains relentless. Finally, it knocks him to the ground and straddles him, breathing heavily, clutching the neckline of his armor, its disc in one piece again and ready in its other hand. Sam's disc slips away, forgotten.

_Derezz! Derezz! Derezz!_

The Knight gets ready to inflict the final blow. Sam closes his eyes in hopes that in a few seconds, he'll wake up in his apartment, shake his head, tell himself he needs to stop playing videogames and get a life, and go feed the no doubt already barking Marvin. Then Alan will show up, asking him whether he had found anything at the arcade. He will say no.

There's blood all over her hands; blood of a user. A salty teardrop makes its way down her cheek, falls and melts with the red sea.

_User Sam 0:1 Black Knight  
_

* * *

**Author's Note:** Man... my own fic just about broke my heart right now. Well, I did want it to be a tragedy, didn't I. *shrugs* Anyway, it's finally over! This "oneshot" ended up in being a fourshot and good lord, I really thought there would be more for a while. Bonus points and maybe even a yummy chocolate cookie to anyone who finds out what "sector N-17-10" really means. ;)

As always, notify me if you see any errors, since English is not my native language. (Be nice, though, please; my little heart doesn't take critique too well, even though it really, really tries and knows it's only good for you.)_  
_


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